The Press Weren't Invited
by knowmyname
Summary: Thankgod the press weren't invited... Gordon woudln't beleive it. First they lost the little bird, and now Batman was resigning. The audience was silent.


The vigilante didn't publicly attend the event. But even so, Gordon was sure he saw the black cape billowing in the wind on top of a near by building as he stepped up to the podium to address the silent crowd.

It was so strange. Gotham was never so quiet before and now it felt like such an alien moment. Sure, there was traffic and bustling around the rest of the city, but not here. The plaza was filled to full capacity with the silent audience. Waiting faces watched with mixed emotions while the commissioner settled his cue cards on the podium and cleared his throat.

For some reason, beyond of which he was able to comprehend, he was one of the few chosen to speak at this event. The others were mostly posh socialites who paid to get this moment in the spotlight. Only a few were people that actually had a purpose to speak. A few had spoken about a rare run in they might have had with the bird; others spoke about justice and the sacrifice it required. There was even a little girl in the fifth grade who had written a poem about being saved by the boy wonder.

Anything Gordon might have wanted to say had already been said, by socialites and fellow police men alike. So what would he say? Although the ceremony had been continuing for a good hour now, the audience still appeared patient and quiet, although a good portion of them was crying, and waited expectantly for him to speak.

Looking down again, the commissioner scowled at his cue cards. He pocketed them and an almost inaudible murmur washed over the crowd.

He cleared his throat and glanced at the tall building across the plaza. Sure enough, the caped crusader was perched on a gargoyle in plain sight but no one seemed to see him except the man at the podium. Clearing his throat again, Gordon began to improvise. "How many of you remember the green short pants?" he started with, earning him good natured chuckles from the audience. "Boy, that costume was ditched as soon as his first run in with Harley. Anyone remember that one? I guess wedgies and scaly underoos don't go well together." This earned him a few more laughs.

The underoos. Oh man, that boy was asking for it right from the start. Gordon couldn't help it when the left side of his mouth twitched in a smile at the memory. Robin had defended that costume with everything he had, refusing to see it as 'tempting' and 'suggestive' like the rest of Gotham did. But when he received that wedgie… ouch. That costume option was thrown down the drain. Batman probably had it hung up somewhere of course.

Batman. Gordon took a chance and glanced back up to the building across the plaza. The Dark Knight hadn't moved. Phew. That meant he wouldn't kill commissioner just yet.

"Even after the costume change, he kept that yellow cape. Sure, the color was on the inside…" Gordon trailed off and his gaze dragged back towards the shadowed man across the plaza. "But it was like a symbol. A shining beacon in the dirt and grime of Gotham. Sometimes, it's hard to see the light. Sometimes, it's shrouded in darkness. But somehow," he took a deep breath and cleared his throat again as it got tighter. "No matter how terrible this place gets, there's always been that glimmer of hope. That light that shines in the ugliest places."

The plaza was silent. Gordon wanted to step away from the podium, away from the crowd and go home, mourn the dead and show up to work the next day. But he kept a stoic face and forced his vocal chords to cooperate. There was a lot he wanted to say, but he also wanted to say nothing. Didn't want to get something wrong and ruin the bird's memory.

"He was so young." A few people in the crowd gave a sob at this. "Couldn't have been more than ten when I first saw him. How is that possible?" Thick eyebrows drew together in comprehension. He'd often wondered how the bird came to be Gotham's boy wonder, how it was possible to be so fit and agile at such a young age. If Gordon could even _begin_ to guess at the situation, he would think he was Batman's son, trained from birth to take up the mantle.

"But what do I know?" he sighed into the microphone. "What do _any_ of us know? Not much, that's what. We're just guessing at someone's life and choices, someone we'll never know." He could practically feel Batman's stiff gaze on him.

"So," Gordon changed the subject. "You've heard the story I'm sure, but it's my job to deliver the final verdict." A few people in the crowd murmured but the commissioner ignored it. "At around 11:13 on November fifth, Robin received a bullet wound to his left thigh and his right shoulder puncturing his lung."

Gordon placed both hands on the podium and locked his arms holding himself away from the microphone. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his fading control and continued. "He was caught in combat without armor as it had been weakened during the explosion in the bank vaults." Gordon took a flashing glance across the plaza, but Batman was no longer stationed on his perch. He had disappeared. Like always.

"Robin was rushed to the h-hospital. After undergoing an exhausting seven hour surgery, he was finally stabilized. His lung was inflated and blood loss was being controlled." The man turned away for a moment, clearing his throat before continuing. "Time of death… 7:04 am on November sixth."

**-November sixth, 6:30 am.**

Batman sat at attention. The tiny and frail body on the bed in front of him had just shifted. Or, his hand twitched… same thing.

The little bird made a groaning noise that was ruined by the tube down his throat. Crusty and sticky blue eyes fluttered and opened, the mask was removed. He seemed to be in a dream state, head lolling to the side and eyelids heavy. Finding that he couldn't move his body to sit up, Robin slumped his aching head back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

Batman would have to wait.

Only two minutes later did a nurse knock on the door. The bird's mask was replaced and the exhausted looking women entered. The Dark Knight never spared her a glance and kept his gaze steadily focused on his little birds face. The woman left after taking down notes and replacing a blood bag.

Something was wrong. Something didn't feel right in the bat's subconscious. Narrowing his eyes behind the white out lenses, Gotham's number one vigilante leaned forwards and his gaze increased in intensity.

Something most _definitely _didn't feel right.

Because it wasn't.

A face of discomfort passed over the little birds pale face only eight minutes later. The beeping of the heart monitor increased along with blood pressure…

The small body convulsed. And again. And again until the bird suddenly woke with a scream in his throat. Robin began to claw at his torso, tear at his clothes and drag fingernails on his skin-

Batman slammed the emergency button on the wall so hard it cracked.

**- Present day.**

"Cause of d-death was due to a rejected blood transfusion," Gordon finished.

The man stepped away from the podium and wiped his sweating forehead and watering eyes on his sleeve before returning to his post and clearing his throat.

As he opened his mouth to speak, a shout echoed from the crowd. The dark figure that Gordon had been watching before was perched on a light post that was on the edge of the plaza. In the crisp dusk air and autumn breeze, Batman's cape billowed around his body and shrouded his broad form from view.

It seemed like the large crowd couldn't make up its mind of whether to stay silent or start a ruckus. But before the audience could make up its mind, the Dark Knight had leapt off of the light post and rolled through his landing to stand tall. Moving swiftly, he approached the podium without resistance from the parting crowd.

Reaching the raised platform, the vigilante had no trouble jumping up to stand beside Gordon. The commissioner hadn't moved. He was almost worried the dark man before him would punch him out for his speech… but he'd said nothing wrong.

Batman instead reached a hand up and dug his thumb under the edge of his cowl. Pulling it back, the black cowl peeled up and away from the man's face.

The entire plaza was as silent as a graveyard. Thank god the press had been banned from the event.

"I publicly resign from the name of Batman," Bruce Wayne stated after leaning into the microphone. "Thank you." Stepping back, the billionaire stood facing a bewildered commissioner who was currently trying to make his vocal chords work.

Taking Gordon's right wrist, Bruce turned the man's palm up and placed his previously peeled off cowl in the man's hand. After nodding respectfully to the commissioner, a grappling gun was fired and the Dark Knight was swooping up to a roof top and away into the darkening skyline.

**A/N:** _DERP! That ending was so crappy because I just kind of GAVE UP. This story was supposed to go in a whole different direction and was going to be focused more on Robin and his strange and barely visible father/son relationship with Gordon. But nooOOoo… I was trying to make a story that would make you all cry, but instead I made this into a lame excuse for a 'Bruce Wayne Is Batman!' fic._

_This is also an update. I've been working my butt off for NaNoWriMo this month and so have had a hard time turning anything out for FF. Oops… *sighs* sorry._

_I still love you and cannot wait for Young Justice tonight!_

_Moe._

_Also, I was sick a little while ago and made my brother (Marcus) write a story for me. It's on this account titled 'Nightmares Of The Bat Boys'. It's good. Go read it._


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